


get busy living or get busy dying

by pissedofsandwich



Series: not quite coffee shop au (at The Hood) [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2893694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something he never noticed, and it’s the fact that the stranger is a beautiful human being. The stranger has these captivating brown eyes, and Michael doesn’t usually find brown eyes attractive but wow, the way he smiles makes his eyes light up in the best way possible, and his hair is dark and makes Michael wonder if it’s as soft as it looks, and his arms. Don’t even get Michael started on those arms. Michael is pretty sure Shakespeare would want to write sonnets about those veins, and those muscles, and the tan skin—</p><p>Michael realizes the handsome stranger has been talking to him a beat too late. He snaps out of his reverie, cursing himself for being an idiot, and says, “Yes?”</p><p>edited on 12/29/14</p>
            </blockquote>





	get busy living or get busy dying

**Author's Note:**

> based on this au on tumblr: “accidentally fell on your lap while standing on this crowded bus.” i thought this would be perfect for malum. warnings for gratuitous bandom cameos. i can’t write 5sos without including other bandom people, im so sorry. (actually im not) title from fall out boy. please leave comment, etc. un-betaed and my first language isn't english so all mistakes are mine!

Michael wakes up from a very pleasant nap to the horrifying realization that he’s going to be _so_ late for work. On his first day. Trying his best not to hyperventilate, still half disoriented, he snatches his bag and runs out of the door without saying goodbye to his mom. He thinks nothing as he sprints to the bus stop, only that he needs to get to the coffee shop right now. He jumps on the bus moments before the door slides close, barely on the bus as it lurches forward. Michael immediately grips the closest handle and struggles to stay upright the whole way.

He wasn’t planning on being late. Nobody wants to be late, especially on the first day of work. He really shouldn’t have taken that nap. He really wishes he could just blame Mr. Way and his crazy art history paper for this, but his boss probably wouldn’t care that he stayed up all night doing homework because well, it’s partly his fault too. He has a slight tendency towards procrastination but hey, it isn’t like he doesn’t have other homework to do. Mr. Stump’s music project is a total bitch, and while he loves music, it’s really hard to do a group work when he’s the only one who gives a fuck and after all, he’s still just another high school kid trying to get by. He wishes his boss wouldn’t at least cut his payment. He’s been saving for months to buy a new guitar. The white Gretsch he saw on the internet is truly beautiful, and it’s even got a kill switch, which is very fun to play with and it’s another step closer to his life-long dream of being a musician. He can’t afford to get fired—can you get fired on the first day?

He’s trying to come up with a reasonable excuse when suddenly, the bus jerks and he loses his balance. Something heavy bumps into him (a loaded backpack filled with books as thick as bricks, he will later find out) and his grip on the handle loosens. He falls backwards, stepping on a woman’s foot, who yelps and glares at him despite his earnest apologies, and is about to regain his balance when the bus comes to a screeching stop. The momentum, once again, knocks him backwards—

And he falls right into something warm. And comfy.

“Whoops,” a voice says, right behind his ear, and that’s when he realizes he’s fallen right into someone’s lap. That someone has a nice voice, and probably is male, and Michael can practically feel his whole face heating up as he scrambles to get up. Seriously, is the world teaming up to make his first day at work the worst day of his life or what? Today can’t possibly get any worse. He gathers his composure, wondering if one can actually be dying from embarrassment, because that’s how Michael feels right now. He wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. Right now.

Also, he wishes the stranger with the kind of nice voice would stop looking at him.

As if accidentally sitting on him is not embarrassing enough, now the stranger apparently thinks Michael is not okay, which is true, but he’s already late on his first day and the last thing he needs is polite sympathy from someone he doesn’t even know. The stranger doesn’t stop anyway, standing up, probably looking concerned—Michael knows because it’s all over his voice when he speaks. “Are you alright?” Michael smiles/grimaces apologetically at the poor soul he’s accidentally sat on and— _wow_. Okay. There’s something he never noticed, and it’s the fact that the stranger is a _beautiful_ human being. The stranger has these captivating brown eyes, and Michael doesn’t usually find brown eyes attractive but wow, the way he smiles makes his eyes light up in the best way possible, and his hair is dark and makes Michael wonder if it’s as soft as it looks, and his _arms_. Don’t even get Michael started on those arms. Michael is pretty sure Shakespeare would want to write sonnets about those veins, and those muscles, and the tan skin— Michael realizes the handsome stranger has been talking to him a beat too late. He snaps out of his reverie, cursing himself for being an idiot, and says, “Yes?”

The stranger with brown eyes tilts his head, and from where Michael is standing he can see the expanse of his neck, smooth and long, and okay, he’s got to stop right there. “The bus has stopped,” the stranger informs him.

“Right, yeah,” Michael says, because his brain always short-circuits in the face of a handsome face, and that’s when he looks around and realizes they’re the only ones in the bus. This fact makes him weirdly giddy before he realizes he’s supposed to work. “Fuck!” he yells, embarrassed, and turns to the stranger with the beautiful arms, rushes out a, “I’m so sorry I fell on you, I wish I could make it up to you but I’ve got to go to work, or my boss would kill me, it’s my first day and—I’m sorry!”

It’s fortunate that the coffee shop is only a block away. When he gets there, the shop is empty except for two people huddled in corner. The only barista in sight is a girl about his age with _fantastic_ eyeliner, waving at him and grinning. Michael is about to breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of his boss, then he closes his eyes and the second he opens them, Mali-Koa Hood is in his face. He hasn’t even opened his mouth before Mali starts demanding where he has been and starts this lecture about how baristas are seen as a lowly profession and how it’s completely wrong, and how his being late does nothing but reinforce the common faulty assumption and the topic is actually interesting and Michael would like to share his opinions, really, if only he isn’t so damn deprived of air.

“Jesus, Mali, at least let the guy catch his breath,” the female barista behind the counter saves him, laughing. Michael mentally thanks her and makes a note to befriend her. She’s so going to be his work bestie.

“Sorry—I was—art homework—alarm didn’t go off—bus—late,” Michael says in between gasps. He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine. Mali is looking at him with narrowed eyes, expecting a coherent answer, and Michael chooses his words carefully, trying to use big words so he would seem at least not retarded. “I sincerely apologize. I realize that tardiness is not an admirable trait and will not be tolerated, but I—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mali sighs, and actually looks sympathetic. “Just don’t do it next time, okay? This is the first time I hired a high school student, and don’t make me regret this. Can you do that?” Michael nods eagerly. Anything for the beautiful Gretsch guitar. “Yes, thank you,” he says.

Mali directs him to a small room at the back and tells him to change. Afterwards, she disappears into her office, an equally small room with a placard that declares _MANAGER_ pinned on the door. Michael hurriedly changes and comes out feeling ready to work. His soon-to-be work bestie is waiting for him at the counter, laughing as he approaches. “You must be scared as balls,” she says, holding out her hand. Her eyeliner, from this close, if possible looks even more impressive. “I’m Chrissy.”

“Michael,” he says, shaking her hand. “And I’m not just scared, terrified.”

“She’s actually really nice once you get to know her. Seriously. I’ve worked a lot of jobs before, and nobody treats their employees as good as Mali. Believe me,” Chrissy gushes. “She is strict, but working here is fun.”

“Isn’t it the same as working at _Starbucks_?” Michael raises an eyebrow. Mr. Way used to work at _Starbucks_ , and from his stories, it didn’t seem really fun.

“Hey!” Chrissy actually looks offended. “Do not put _The Hood_ and _Starbucks_ on the same level.”

“It’s true,” a voice says, a voice that Michael has heard before, not long ago. “Don’t let my sister hear that. She will have your head on a platter.”

Michael turns to the source of the voice and fuck, it’s the stranger he accidentally fell on at the bus, standing at the door and smiling that award-winning smile and—wait, did he say my sister? “Oh, God,” Michael groans. If he thought his first day of work couldn’t get any worse, he was wrong.

“Calum!” Chrissy greets. “Fancy meeting you here. I want you to meet our new barista. Michael, come on, say hi to Mali’s brother.”

Michael makes dying whale noises, covers his face with his hands and hides behind Chrissy. “Please tell him to go away,” Michael whispers.

Chrissy whirls around, confused. She looks between the two of them. Michael pointedly does not look at Calum—a nice-sounding name, perfect for a guy with those arms. And no, Michael is totally not thinking about the stranger’s (apparently, also his boss’ brother) arms when the stranger in question is less than two feet in front of him. Working here is so going to be not fun. “You two know each other or something?” Chrissy asks.

Michael makes more dying whale noises. “Make him go away,” he pleads.

Calum laughs, and it’s a nice laugh. It’s _adorable_. “No, we don’t, actually,” he says matter-of-factly. “We just sort of… bumped on the bus. It was a pleasant incident.”

Chrissy raises her perfect eyebrows, and looks about to launch into another question when a customer comes in. She goes into work mode and starts making the customer’s order. Meanwhile, Michael tries very hard not to look at Calum, which proves to be a rather difficult task since Calum has stepped right in front of him, close enough to touch, close enough for Michael to catch his scent. “So, we met again.”

“I guess,” Michael mumbles. “Look, dude, I’m really sorry—“

“Dude,” Calum mimics his tone, “there’s nothing to forgive.”

Michael blinks. “There isn’t? But… I sat on your lap.”

Calum smirks, and with it, comes a surge of heat through Michael’s body. Calum leans in close, and Michael should probably lean away but he just. _Can’t_. “I didn’t mind,” he murmurs, grins with the shine of a thousand suns, and Michael is suddenly remembered of that time in middle school where he got electrocuted, once. It wasn't anything serious. He just got his first CD, and he couldn't wait for his mom to come down so he plugged the radio by himself. Turned out, something was wrong with the radio, which resulted in him getting electrocuted, just a little. It gave a shocking jerk, made his stomach feel weird, and that's exactly how Calum is making him feel right now. Calum grins at him, and it looks like a  _promise._

Michael isn't too sure what to do.

Chrissy eyes them, all knowing eyes, and she's got a shit-eating grin on her face as she asks Calum if he wants anything. Calum orders hot chocolate, because apparently he's had enough caffeine, and as he walks to the table in the corner, he sends Michael that same grin again. Just like that, Michael knows that working here? Is going to be so eventful. He finds himself trying to hide a smile and almost didn't regret being late.


End file.
